The Cost of Winning
by YappiChick
Summary: Part of him wanted to ask her if it got easier, seeing an innocent person killed in the crossfire, but, in the end, he decided against saying anything. Set during "The Fall of Reach"


**Timeline:** Takes place after the first Spartan mission on the Eridanus 2 space dock. Yup, another the Fall of Reach fic. Surprise, surprise.  
**Author's Notes**: If you haven't read The Fall of Reach *gasp!*, then you should know that John is 13 in this story…everything else in the story is pretty self-explanatory. :D This is completely separate from my current WIP, "Under the Surface". And, comments are love. :D

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John didn't think he was invincible, but his injury was unexpected. He knew the mission was dangerous; he and his fellow Spartans would have been disappointed if it wasn't. Still, the idea that three rounds had managed to hit him was a surprise.

His side was still sore, his pride more so. He was the only Spartan on that mission who got injured. It had been the first time winning hadn't been easy for him.

Getting shot was more painful than he had expected. A burst of dark red filled his vision as the pain roared through his body as the bullet paved a wave of fire behind its path. It was only his intense training that kept him focused enough to keep fighting. Once their objective had been completed, Kelly's quick application of the biofoam allowed him to continue with their mission.

Without her foresight to bring the med kit with her, he'd be dead.

He lay perfectly still on the examination table, eyes focused forward, waiting for a doctor to come in and assess his condition. After several minutes of replaying his actions, John lifted up his shirt slowly and carefully touched the wound.

The flash of red burst behind his eyelids.

The sound of the door opening cause him to pull down his shirt and put his hands by his sides. He watched as the door swung open and the woman walked inside.

"Doctor Halsey?" He hadn't expected her to tend to his injuries.

"John," she greeted, her eyes not leaving the tablet she held in her hands. "The mission didn't go exactly as planned, I see."

He hated to be reminded of his failure. "All objectives were completed, ma'am," he replied, trying to keep the defensiveness out of his voice.

"Yes, but at a price," she commented offhandedly as she set the tablet on the nearby table. She lifted up his shirt and pulled back the bandage. "You're lucky you're not dead."

It wasn't the first time John had heard her use that word to describe him. That couldn't be said about those who had died on Eridanus 2, he thought quietly. _Where had that come from?_ He thought he had pushed aside those feelings back on the Pelican.

He nodded as she started mending the wound. "Yes, ma'am," he said, swallowing thickly.

She stopped her work and looked at him momentarily. "Is there something wrong, John?"

He wanted to bring up his internal struggle, his conflicting emotions about the civilian lives that were lost at the dock. Part of him wanted to ask her if it got easier, seeing an innocent person killed in the crossfire, but, in the end, he decided against saying anything. She was not his mother and he was not a child.

"No, ma'am." His voice was firm, resolute.

For a moment he thought she was going to push the issue, but she finally nodded and went back to tending to his wound. Several quiet minutes passed. When she pulled back, she read the readouts from the scanner. "You'll have a scar," she said, frowning slightly.

John reached down and touched the puckered skin. There was no more pain, he noticed.

"A scar is a small price to pay for a successful mission," he said bravely.

"But a human life isn't, is it?"

He looked up, stricken. "How did-"

"It can be difficult for seasoned soldiers to be responsible for civilian deaths. I can only imagine how a thirteen year old tries to rationalize it," she replied. "Perhaps a psych exam-"

"That won't be necessary, ma'am," he quickly interjected, sitting up. Human causalities was one of the costs that had to be paid in the name of war. John knew that today was not going to be the last day he would have to take someone's life for a mission's success. He needed to learn how to deal with the price of human life. On his own.

"There's nothing wrong with getting help," she assured him. "No one would think any less of you."

John shook his head, dismissing the doctor's offer. "I'll be fine. I don't want to be out of the fight," he answered, pushing down the unwanted emotions firmly. They would _not_ make their way up the surface again.

"Spoken like the true Spartan you are." She paused and sighed. "Very well, I'll respect your request."

"Thank you, ma'am."

She picked up her tablet and looked at John for a moment. "I know what you did out there was difficult, but what you and your team did showed just how important the Spartan program is to the UNSC. You did well, John. You won."

He felt a swell of pride at her comment. She did know how much he liked to win, he knew. "Yeah," he said, giving himself permission to grin slightly, "we did."


End file.
